The Drunken Adventures of an Englishman
by Anovia
Summary: Drunk Arthur, need I say more? Well I did. The BTT take Arthur out drinking, and make drunken decisions. Please don't try to replicate any of their actions. These are fictional characters, they can't die, but you can. If you don't like my summary, you probably won't like my story, so don't read it. But if you do, Enjoy! :D
1. Prologue

**Hi! I got this idea from my other fanfiction, Raising Kids. I hope you like it! This is like the preview setup chapter. It does get funnier. **

**Disclaimer: Without reviews or suggestions, this story will be impossible. **

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**Prologue**

"Hey Artie, we're going to go out drinking tonight. Why don't you tag along?" Gilbert asked.

"Are you sure you want to invite him, no offense _mon lapin_, but you can't really handle your alcohol."

"I can so! Name a time and a place. I'll be there! I can drink as much as any of you can!" Arthur exclaimed, ready to prove Francis wrong.

"Really? You can drink just as much as Gilbert?"

"Nobody can drink as much as Gilbert," Antonio interjected after Lovino slapped the elder's hands away from his hair.

"I can drink more," Arthur bragged.

"Bull shit," the Italian stated bluntly. "If Gilbert was dying, they would put beer in his IV."

"Well then, I'd be the doctor and I would take the beer and drink it. Then I'd get more beer, and drink that too," Arthur quipped proudly.

Lovino simply shook his head with disappointment at the lame retort. Lovino was sure the Englishman was already drunk from his water. _You're already drunk from nonalcoholic drink, how the fuck you think you can handle real drinks? _"You would let Gilbert die?"

"Well, no... I'd replace the beer I drank with more beer."

"You'd put beer in someone's IV? If you have a problem with Gilbert just say it! No need to beat around the bush."

"I don't bloody hate him, it-"

"Then why would you poison him like that? Next thing you tell me, you'd cook for someone you love."

Arthur gave an apologetic look to Francis before settling his gaze on ground.

"Also if you're a fucking doctor, why the Hell are you drinking on the job? Get your pathetic ass out of that hospital before you kill us all."

Francis stared at the Brit argue with the Italian before making up his mind. "I think it'd be in everyone's best interest if you didn't come with us."

"Look on the brightside, if he gets too drunk he won't be able to protest as much," the albino whispered to Francis.

"What?" Arthur asked, curiously.

"Nothing, you can come drinking with us anytime you want."

That's how Arthur became a drinking buddy of the Bad Touch Trio. Ever since then, it's been one drunken adventure after another...

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**Follow the story, more stuff happens.**


	2. Skydiving Horses

**A/N: Please don't ask me how they coaxed horses into skydiving, even I don't know. Any other questions will be answered to the best of my abilities.**

**I got cocky after thinking of a new story idea and promised someone that I would post this chapter within twenty four hours. I thought it was impossible and almost gave up but then I got a review! I finished the chapter and my Internet decided to be a PITA. I got it posted. I really need reviews to write more. I'm very lazy. I need reviews or I get the impression that everyone hates me, then I go into my emo corner. Which reminds me, I need to get back to raising kids... One day... Soon maybe**

**Disclaimer: I want reviews more than Italy wants pasta. You wouldn't keep pasta from Italy would you? Then please review! Constructive criticism wanted! Some questionable things may happen through the course of this story, don't like, don't read. They are drunk, remember that. This is all in good fun. Most importantly, ENJOY!**

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**Skydiving Horses**

Arthur slammed his empty glass on the counter. "What number was that? I feel like I'm going to puke. That must have been like number 15 or something," the Englishman said, trying to maintain his balance to avoid falling off his stool.

"Close," Gilbert replied. "That was your second. This, however," Gilbert said chugging his beer glass, "is my number, ugh, what is it now?" He stared at the empty mug quizzically, as if silently asking it a question. "17 or 50. Something like that." The Prussian laughed, patting Arthur's shoulder, pushing the man out of his seat.

Arthur landed with his back on the floor and just laid there for a moment, then lifted his head to speak. "Oh my God! When I was falling, for a moment I thought I was skydiving. It was so cool! We should go skydiving!" Arthur exclaimed resting his head back down.

"_Non_, you're drunk." Francis deadpanned, extending his arm to help the Brit up.

Whilst the Englishman was getting up, Gilbert agreed with his friend. "Definitely. We shouldn't just go skydiving. That's not awesome enough, it's been done. We need to do something completely original!"

"Don't encourage him!" Francis protested, even though it was a lost cause.

"Oi, do you know what I saw in a movie once? I saw someone jump out of a plane and land on a horse." Antonio said, walking back to the table where his friends sat.

"Why are you encouraging him?" pestered Francis.

"That sounds awesome, but we have to step it up a notch."

"What if we went skydiving with the horses?"

"Now you're talking, Artie! But the real question is how are we going to record all of this?"

"THAT'S the real question? Not_ where_ are we going to get a plane? _Where_ can we get parachutes for horses? _Who's_ going to fly the plane? _When_ or _where _will we do this? _Where_ will we get the horses? How-"

"Eat your Snickers." Gilbert demanded, pushing a bar of Snickers that came from God knows where in front of Francis' face.

"What?"

"You always get bitchy and worried if you haven't had your Snickers."

"What are you even talking about?" Gilbert didn't try to explain. He simply started poking Francis' cheeks with the candy bar.

"Stop it!"

"Come on, you know you wanna," he sang sloppily. "Eat it, eat it." He started making airplane noises and flying the chocolate around the annoyed Frenchman's face. Francis tried to swat the albino's hands away.

"Will you get that out of my-" he began, trying to dodge Gilbert's incessant jabbing. But the Prussian was faster, landing the chocolate airplane in Francis' mouth.

"Better?" Gilbert smiled knowingly.

Francis glared wide-eyed at the albino, choking on the food that was so rudely shoved down his throat. It took about three glasses of wine and a ten minute coughing fit before he could breathe normally once more.

"Better," Gilbert decided, grinning to himself, before going back to his own drink.

"Hey guys! I actually won a video camera, 2 horses, twelve parachutes, and a private airplane a couple of days ago in a sweepstakes thing I didn't know I entered, if that helps." Antonio stated nonchalantly.

"Great! Let's go!" The Eldest exclaimed, slapping bills onto the table and chugging his drink.

The only one sober enough to drive was Francis. Arthur sat in the passenger seat and the other two were in the back. The entire car ride was silent except for Arthur's singing, only God could decipher what song it was, and Antonio's directions. Gilbert was writing and erasing and writing and erasing with fervor.

"What are you doing?" Francis asked, turning to face his albino friend after the light turned red.

Not looking up from his paper, Gilbert responded, "I just need to make some quick calculations." He chewed his eraser for a bit before continuing to write.

"For?"

"Basic things like, you know, how big a parachute would have to be to capture enough air to allow a video camera to fall at the same speed as a person and the probability of a horse dying in skydiving accident."

"Oh," Francis said as the light turned green. In a few moments, they arrived at their destination.

"You can fly a plane?" Francis asked Antonio unsurely.

"Yeah. You said you would need a co-pilot, right?"

"_Oui, mais, _I've been studying flightever since I realized how cute flight attendants are. I feel like you wouldn't take it seriously, and you're drunk."

"Stop whining so much Francis. You're being a downer. We're the fucking Bad Touch Trio! We don't get drunk! We get awesome! Here," the Prussian said, handing the man an open bottle of wine. "You clearly are being too rational about this."

"I'm not going to drink that before I fly a plane!" Francis screamed.

"Do you want a repeat of the Snickers incident? Besides, this is a really good year. Trust me."

Francis eyed the bottle suspiciously. "Maybe just one sip."

Francis was piss drunk when he boarded the plane, though he would never admit it. Once the Frenchman got in his seat, he started the plane.

"Francis! Wait for me!" Antonio hollered with one foot in the plane and both hands holding onto the insides of the open door.

After everyone was properly seated, Francis started the plane again. It only took him around thirty minutes to get high enough for skydiving to be possible. Gilbert was in the back securing parachutes onto video cameras and horses, Arthur was trying to stand up without using his hands, Antonio was pointing out everything he saw, and Francis was trying to look sober. Right before the Prussian began to speak; Francis let the Spaniard fly and walked to the area where the passengers sat.

"This is good enough!" Gilbert hollered so everyone on the plane could hear. "Arthur, are you ready?"

"Yeah! Let's go!" Arthur opened the door and shoved his horse out. "Fly my pretty! You see that? I created a Pegasus!" The horses whines were heard, decreasing as it got lower. "I shall ride him to freedom!" Arthur then jumped out of the plane to join his 'Pegasus'.

"Wow, did you see him go?" Gilbert exclaimed happily. "He didn't even take a parachute! That was totally boss!"

"Yeah! He just jumped out!" Francis agreed smiling. It took a minute for that to sink in and his smile disappeared. "He just jumped out... without a parachute?"

"Yep."

"_Merde_!" Francis grabbed the nearest parachute that was originally meant for the Brit, and jumped out of the plane.

"Hey! I thought you said skydiving was stupid! Some people just can't resist the awesome." The albino mounted his horse and jumped out of the plane with a video camera in his hands.

Spain looked back to the open door. _That looked like fun. I want to try._ Without any more thought, he ran out of the plane, parachuteless...

In the air, Francis caught onto Arthur and started yelling at him like crazy. Arthur's horse was nowhere to be seen. They parachuted to the ground safely with just enough time to watch Antonio's plane crash.

"Is he ok?" Francis asked immediately

"Look at the pretty colors! Like a rainbow! Except it stopped after yellow... is that even a rainbow?" questioned drunk Arthur.

"He couldn't be hurt, but it's not like he'd just stop flying the plane and jump out."

"Why do people say frogs taste like chicken? Doesn't chicken taste like frog? Or do people just assume everyone's eaten chicken. That's highly pretentious! They don't know my life! Who gave them permission to judge me?" Arthur said, continuing with his drunken rambling.

"Oi, Antonio could be dead!" Antonio screamed.

"Do you think someone would've survived that?" Francis hadn't yet processed who he was talking to.

"No... I'm going to miss him. We were so close," mourned the Spaniard.

"He was my best friend."

"I don't think I can live without him."

"Life definitely won't be the-" Francis turned around to face his 'dead' best friend. "You're alive! Thank God!"

"Yeah, I jumped out of the plane, found this Pegasus, and it saved my life!"

"You're wasted Antonio. Pegasi don't exist."

"Not true, this one saved my life!"

"I'm just glad everyone made it safely."

"Where's Gilbert?"

"I'm just glad most of us made it safely."

"You're not going to look for him?"

"It's-" Francis glanced at his watch. "2 in the morning. Knowing him, he's probably just found someone to annoy. We should head back."

"What the hell Gilbert?"

"What?"

"You broke my piano!"

"It couldn't contain my awesomeness; there wasn't much I could do."

"You could've _not_ landed your horse on it!"

Gilbert looked at Roderich with much confusion. "Where was I supposed to find another piano on such short notice?"

"Why did you need to land on a piano?!"

"It's just awesomer that way."

"No! How many times have I told you to keep your horses away from my pianos?!"

"I lost count sometime after 11. Why? Was it a lot?"

The Austrian placed two fingers to his forehead and took a deep breath. "What would inspire you to land a horse on my piano? Why would you have to land a horse anyway?"

"I can't skydive with a horse and not land it! What was I going to do? Levitate with it? Then you'd probably yell at me for leaving my horses flying around!"

"Why would you go skydiving with a horse?"

"The real question is why not?"

"Because, it's not safe!"

"Unless you had a piano to land on, which I did."

"No! Never again!"

"You have a piano in every zip-code anyway."

"Not anymore do I?"


	3. Digging to China

**Sorry this chapter took so long. After I saw how funny the last chapter turned out, I decided I needed to outdo myself, but I was completely out of funny. So I asked around and a wise author told me Funnies isn't like a sink. You can't just turn it on. It's more like that random five dollar bill that you find in your winter coat from seven years ago. (Francis: It's more like that girl's phone number you find in your pocket when you're too lazy to go to the bar. Definition: A God send.) So I spent a long time planning and finally robbed the funny bank. I couldn't get that much because the clowns were coming after me. So I hope this is enough for feed your hunger for laughter!**

**A special thanks to Bob the guest for so actively reviewing my stories even though he's a guest!**

******Disclaimer: I want reviews more than America wants to be a hero. You wouldn't keep America from his dream to be a hero, would you? Then please review! Constructive criticism wanted! Some questionable things may be said or happen through the course of this story, don't like, don't read. They are drunk, remember that. This is all in good fun. Most importantly, ENJOY!**

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**Digging to China**

"Discombobulated? What the fuck? Now you're just making shit up," Gilbert laughed, putting his glass out to show that he wanted a refill. The bartender happily obliged.

"I shit you not. That's a legitimate word! It's in the dictionary," Arthur explained sipping his margarita.

"But hunormous and ginormous aren't words? I call BS," the German took a shot of whiskey, and then continued drinking his beer.

"Nay, I don't choose the words. I only tell you what the real ones are."

"You sound like a horse, nay," Francis laughed.

"No, that's neigh. N-E-I-G-H. Keep up," the albino stated, requesting yet another refill.

"I know, I was making a joke. Besides, you can't see the spelling when I speak," Francis protested, downing another bottle of wine. "Keep up."

"No! No! You do not turn this on me. No!" Gilbert screamed, slamming his empty mug on the counter top.

"Too late, it's been done," the French man smirked.

"Moo! I'm a goat," Antonio smiled as he returned to the group.

"Damn hippies," the German grumbled, picking his drink up again.

"Kawkaw! I'm a roller coaster!" Arthur said, wobbling in his chair.

"We've already had this conversation!" Francis protested.

"You're all... drunk! The... lot of you!" Gilbert stated between hiccups.

"Dude, ovens are just like, cookie toasters," the Spaniard explained, staring at the microwave behind the bar, taking a barrel of alcohol and chugging it.

"I'm drunk? You're the one who said the 'lot of you'. Like, come on. English, learn it motherfuckers," Arthur quipped.

"Get a job!" the German exclaimed, probably still talking about hippies.

"That's so cool, 'cause I was thinking. They sell dollhouses and doll cars, but no doll stores or schools. How do they pay for gas?" the Brit asked seriously. "Or electricity? Or water for that matter? Where do they even go in their cars? Back home?"

"The cars run on hopes and dreams, that's why adults don't play with dolls," Gilbert stated in a sudden moment of clarity before chugging another glass.

"That was deep man," Antonio nodded, wiping his face with his shirt sleeve.

"Are they under house arrest?" Arthur asked, in his own little conversation, ignoring everyone else.

"You know what I was thinking? A microwave is like a baby oven," the Spaniard stated.

"So if an oven is pregnant..." Gilbert began, putting on a pair of sunglasses that seemed to materialize out of thin air. "There would be an oven in the oven."

"Look! There's a hole in the ground." The Briton pointed to the crack on the tile floor. He leaned back with his stool and toppled over. He took this opportunity to take a closer look at the gap in the floor, after rolling over; he began to exam the scar on the tile.

"You made that the last time you were here, when you fell out of your seat," the barkeep explained.

"I made a hole," Arthur stated, poking the floor.

"We should go digging," Gilbert suggested.

"How exactly? No, not even how, but where?" Francis asked, interested.

"I won a bunch of shovels and saw a large place on the way here, if that helps,' the Spaniard offered.

"Let's go! Antonio, it's your turn to pay!" Gilbert said, getting up and extending a hand to assist the Brit to his feet.

"Oh, guys. I almost forget to tell you about a new promotional feature I'm doing for the bar," the bartender began, wiping a glass. "I put Ping-Pong balls in the drinks and if you find one, your drinks are free for the night."

"That's why that was there! Ok, here you go." The Spaniard placed the sphere on the counter and headed out to follow his friends who had just exited the building.

Francis drove, being the least drunk of the group.

"You're welcome for this awesome idea," Gilbert smirked.

"Well you only thought of it because of Arthur, so, thanks Arthur," Francis said.

"WELL, THEN! HMMPH! I SHALL LEAVE AND GO SOMEWHERE MY SERVICES ARE APPRECIATED!" Gilbert screamed, outraged. He turned to face the mirror. He began to chuckle to himself. "Services... Who am I, Francis?"

"Arthur isn't accepting Francis's services... yet..." The Spaniard laughed. "Key word: yet."

"I don't like that bloody wanker!" The Brit protested.

"Accepting? Is that a requirement?" The albino asked, ignoring the others.

"I'm not a fucking rapist okay! I told you guys that already!" The French college student argued.

"For Francis? No, but it would be near impossible to provide his _kind_ of servicers any other way..." The brunette continued, ignoring the others as well.

"Aw, that's cute. One word: Chloroform," the German stated.

"I'm not that kind of person dammit!" Francis yelled.

"Dude, I bet Francis goes through that shit like crazy. Like, three gallons a week," Antonio nodded.

"Not as fast as he goes through Vaseline. He just bought the company eventually. It was cheaper," Gilbert laughed. His friend looked back confused; the joke seemed to be lost on him.

"What? What does that even mean? Vaseline?"

"... To masterbate.." the German explained.

"I don't need to do that. I always have someone to do that for me," Francis smirked.

"What do you think I do?" Arthur interjected, but immediately realized what he had said and corrected himself. "I mean.. Most likely, yes."

"Aw Artie, glad to see you're admitting it. About time, you tsundere git!" Gilbert smiled.

"I admitted to nothing, because nothing happened! And don't steal my words, you bloody tosser!" Arthur lied.

"You can't call last night a nothing _mon cher_, not the way you were begging for it," the French teen grinned.

"SHUT UP!" the Brit shouted.

"But I thought you liked it when I was loud? Or do you prefer to be the one-" Francis cooed.

"I said SHUT UP!" the Englishman hollered.

"Isn't that a bit hypocritical, considering how last night, you were the more vocal of us two?" the blond smirked.

"Not that Francis minds," Gilbert stated.

"Does he ever? It's sex. What's to mind?" Antonio commented.

"Touché, young one. Touché," the German said waving his finger.

Francis parked the car in the university parking lot. "Get out. Just all of you. Right now."

Once the group retrieved the shovels, and surprisingly, a loader, the Spaniard led the group to a large, green field.

"Let's start digging!" the brunette exclaimed.

"Just right here?" Francis questioned.

"Yep!" The Prussian exclaimed taking his shovel to the ground.

"This is the school's soccer field!" Francis yelled.

"This school's full of rich kids. I'm sure they can afford it."

"How deep will you be digging?"

"Until I reach China."

"You can't be serious."

"Watch me."

After that, Francis sighed and everyone began to dig. A few moments later, and a large crowd of girls had swarmed around the Frenchman.

"You're Francis Bonnefoy right? From the Senior Class?" one of the girls asked.

"_Oui,_" the man replied, pausing from digging to face her.

"You look really sexy when you dig, you know..."

"_Vous pensez? _Well, it's probably the shovel then. You should try it and maybe I'll think you look really sexy."

The blond girl's eyes widened as she heard the other speak. Quickly, she grabbed the shovel and began to dig. "How do I look?"

"Very sexy indeed," Francis complemented.

"No fair!" a redhead complained. "Let me have a turn!"

"Like Hell you will! He gave it to me, and I'm not letting it go! I'd die first!"

"Give me the damn shovel bitch!"

"Ladies, there's really no need to fight." The blond male pointed to a pile of shovels near where Gilbert was digging. "There are plenty of shovels for everyone."

Soon enough, the crowd of females were digging while Francis flirted with them.

About an hour had passed when Antonio stopped digging. He had dug up a treasure chest, but when he tried to lift it, it was much too heavy for him. The Spaniard decided that it would be far too troublesome to keep, dumped the precious metal onto the dirt and simply reburied it. He took the empty chest and went to join his French friend.

"Did you find anything special?" the blond asked, eyeing what the brunette was dragging behind him.

Antonio shook his head, "Nothing important. This is just an empty case, but if I clean it out, I can use it to hold all my tomatoes!"

Arthur had gone crazy with the loader and started tearing up the entire field.

"This is amazing! Did you see how deep of a hole I dug? I'm fucking awesome!"

"You're fucking awesome too?! That whore!" Gilbert complained. The albino continued to dig, with the help of his bird friend, Gilbird, but the ground he was standing on collapsed beneath him. Lucky for him, an Asian broke his fall. "I've reached China! Don't worry! I already had Antonio call the people at Guinness!" As soon as he said those words, sirens filled the air.

"Oh, no. I thought you said to call the _police_. Sorry," Antonio apologized. Within moments, they were surrounded by officers.

"I was informed that you did something that was incredibly important. What was it?" The officer questioned, glaring at the destroyed field.

"I um... dug a hole... and I ugh... found this guy," Gilbert explained apprehensively, pointing to the man he was sitting on.

The police entered the underground room, and analyzed the situation. After that, everything happened quickly.

"The school would like to publically thank Gilbert Beilschmidt, Francis Bonnefoy, and Antonio Carriedo for protecting the safety of all the students at Hetalia University. We have top notch security, and it is an inexcusable travesty that a Chinese spy could be in the final plan of a mass murder of the children of diplomats attending this college. We have already inserted more security systems and hired more guards throughout the school," The dean said into the microphone on his podium. The press continued to take multiple pictures and record. "I would like to award Gilbert," he pointed to the albino to his right. "With an award for braveness and courageousness." The dean held out a medal for the student.

"Ahem," the German coughed.

"Or, to put it simply,... awesomeness." The albino smiled, put on the medal, and walked behind the podium.

"Is there anything you'd like to say?" one of the reporters asked.

"Actually, yes. As you have just witnessed, I didn't choose the awesome life," the German took out sunglasses from God-knows-where and put them on. "The awesome life chose me."

Arthur however, had passed out a short while before the police came and woke up in a ditch trapped under the loader he was driving last night. The Brit spent several hours of his day alternating between screaming for help and freaking out. He had no recollection of the night before and didn't know where he was.

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**A/N: I really did try on this chapter. I'm sorry if you hated it. It could just be me, but I don't think it's better than the last chapter... sorry. :( If you by some chance still like this story, review please! Also, I have a poll on my profile page where you can vote for the next Drunken Adventure, please do! :D**


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